


Hopeless

by Cajuzinhoinho



Series: BrArg Week 2020 [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternative Universe - Human, Blow Jobs, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Love Confessions, M/M, alternative universe - late 1940s, illegal movie theaters, lots and lots of melodrama, lots of pining, no research, questionable historical setting, vintage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:34:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cajuzinhoinho/pseuds/Cajuzinhoinho
Summary: Martín couldn’t, as he had done all his life, simply walk to Luciano, win him with his charm and have him falling in his arms in an instant. All he could do was walk right into the dark hall of that old movie theater, and have the shadow of a taste of what it could’ve felt like.
Relationships: Argentina/Brazil (Hetalia)
Series: BrArg Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025860
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

> BrArg Week is finally here and we’re starting with some smut huh  
> I decided to shamelessly mix together today’s “vintage” theme with tomorrow’s “movie theater”. This is a human AU happening at some vague period after WW2  
> This was inspired in a scene from the first episode of the Netflix show “Hollywood”  
> Huge thanks to @ottomanliest on Tumblr for proofreading and being patient with my non-english-native ass

Martín managed to not stare at the movie theater sign on top of the wide doors for long. It was an old thing, perhaps because it had been the first of its kind in the city, or maybe it just hadn’t been properly maintained through the years. He heard of the place only once, in whispers and a warning look, and for two weeks he hesitated to come anywhere near it. It was only when he was reaching his limit that he had decided to go, when any alternative to it felt completely unbearable.

The truth was that Martín had been restless for quite some time. At night, he barely slept, during the day, his every thought was consumed by him. By Luciano.

The boy with the shiniest eyes that worked at the same place as he did. He had moved to Argentina a few months prior after serving in the war in Europe with his countrymen. Martín had heard that war had a way of taking the light from a man’s face, but Luciano seemed to be the opposite of it. During their breaks, he spoke about his time in Italy with grandeur and bravery and quite a bit of welcomed irony, directed at both the Allies and the Axis. He told Martín about the cold, about the mountains, and Martín, the grandson of an Italian lady who’s accent was still thickly present in each Spanish word, told him what he himself knew about the country he had never set foot on. He showed his family pictures he carried in his wallet, Luciano showed his frontline ones. 

Sometimes Luciano even spoke about the women there. Those times Martín preferred to only pretend to listen. It was an easy thing to do when he could just stare at the motions of Luciano’s lips, the gestures of his thick, somewhat rough hands, how messy his hair got in the wind. He’d do that until something about Luciano’s speech brought him back to the world of the living, just before his stare would have become too much. 

Later, he’d think about the eyes and the hands and the hair for more than too much

And he would’ve been happy to simply continue like that, soaking in his hopeless pining at night, but enjoying the time with a friend at day. They’d bicker, argue, and laugh about the most insignificant things in the world, and Martín would almost forget, for a second, the ache he felt deep in his heart. If he could keep forgetting, just for the seconds needed to not make his affections obvious, he could have that forever.

So it shouldn’t have hurt like that when he saw Luciano waving them goodbye at the bar with a girl in his arm.

After all, Martín should’ve seen it coming, should know it was how things were supposed to go. He had done the same on countless nights, though not many after the first time Luciano’s smile made his heart skip a beat. 

But on that night, it froze and sank to his stomach. Sleepless nights and torturing days had passed, each hour worse than the last, between bursts of pain, anger, and numbness. He tried not to think about it when he was around Luciano and do what he had always done, concentrating on how beautiful his eyes were, how melodic his voice sounded when told a story. But no matter how hard he tried his thoughts went back to his own feelings and how hopeless they were, ridiculous even when Luciano was out there giving his affection to another, with ease showering a woman in the love Martín so craved. On an impulse of morbid curiosity, Martín asked Luciano on their break: 

“How were things with that girl? From Friday night?” He tried to sound casual and disinterested, but had the feeling he failed.

“Oh,” Luciano seemed surprised at the question. “Fine, it was fun. She was really pretty and all. We had fun.” 

“Nice.” Martín stared at nowhere, pretending he had something to look at. “I’m guessing you’ll see her again.”

He shrugged. 

“I have to settle down eventually, might as well start looking.” he let out a soft, lighthearted laugh. “And you? Got anyone?” 

Martín took a breath.

“ I could if I wanted to.” he faked a smile. “But I’m just fine on my own.” He could’ve stopped there, but his voice kept going despite his efforts to seem unbothered by love “I mean, there was someone, but it is more of a silly devotion than anything, and that’s not my style.”

“You are too romantic for your own good.” Luciano giggled and punched his shoulder a bit too strong. “Long ideations about love only take you so far.” 

“But have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Fallen in love.” 

Luciano was silent for a moment. They stared at the grey sky together. He looked beautiful contrasting against it, his dark brown eyes made of sunlight. Martín wanted to hold his hand.

“No, I don’t think so.” he paused again, then smiled. “But I’m seeing that girl again, after work. And who knows what can happen.”

Martín nodded, but his throat was too tight to say a word.

They went back to work, and Martín kept watching Luciano from a distance as one watches a memory in their head. His usual movements and mannerisms filled Martín with a sense of nostalgia and loss for something he never had. More than ever his eternally hopeless dreams seemed completely out of reach.

Martín couldn’t, as he had done all his life, simply walk to Luciano, win him with his charm, say all the right things, gentle and firm at all the right moments, and have him falling in his arms in an instant. He couldn’t do that even if he dedicated years to it, which he would, without question.

All he could do was walk right into the dark hall of that old movie theater, and have the shadow of a taste of what it could’ve felt like. Maybe it would be enough to take Luciano out of his mind, maybe it would turn the last key needed to lock him there forever. But Martín couldn’t bear doing nothing. 

The walls were painted a deep red that was slowly turning into brown as it faded, though as the hall turned darker and darker, no one could truly see that. Martín walked slow, alone, and any thought about turning around and leaving were quickly ignored. Still, he retracted into his coat and gave money to the guy at the entrance table without asking the price, without looking at him and without a word. He walked straight to the room where the light and the sound were coming from, quietly opened the small black curtains and walked in. 

He was immediately welcomed by the somewhat unsettling sight of naked men projected on the wall. It was a video of maybe 6 or 7, young, handsome men, lifting weights, doing push-ups, cramped in a small room. Nothing else. Their faces were hard to discern, molded by the gray and black grains that only really conveyed their pleasant shape. 

Facing the movie screen there were 6 rows of seats, each divided into three to allow passage coming from the doors on each side. Martín sat with a sharp motion on the first chair of the last row, right by the door. He had to come in, he had to see it, but he didn’t have to stay for long, and if he needed to leave he would need to do it fast. 

Though the place could sit perhaps 40 or 50 people, there were only 9 scattered around the room, some of them in pairs, some alone. Two rows in front of him, there was one man seated with his arm over the back of the chair, and in his lap Martín could see the shadow of a head coming up and down, and the obscene sound it made mixing with the movie music. On the first row, he could see one man moving his own arm, staring fixated at the screen. A few others were doing the same, a few were simply watching. 

He wasn’t sure what he expected, but still he sunk into the chair and decided to watch it as well. He wouldn't touch himself, it felt too desperate. Anyway, that was not quite what he was promised when he heard about the place. He had money in his pocket if it was needed, he had come prepared for… whatever waited for him. A stranger's hands, mouth, something to take his mind off the shiny eyes and warm baritone voice that had taken over his every thought. 

He decided to pay attention to see how the other men were doing it, how they were finding their partners, but all seemed to be settled. That was until his gaze found another, of a boy - a man, with the easygoing smile of a boy - one of the front rows, sitting by the wall. It was too dark to see his face, though he could see his teeth. He seemed young, he seemed attractive, at least enough to give him what Martín had gone to get. So Martín smiled back, insecure but not letting a drop of it show in his eyes. The man stared at him for a bit longer, then his smile suddenly disappeared. 

It was about the same second Martín’s smile vanished too. The light of the screen hit the man’s face a little brighter, and when the lines of his face became clearer, Martín’s stomach sunk. 

Luciano got up and walked to the door in fast, wide steps, not looking at Martín, who hadn’t even begun to process what was happening. His arm moved by itself and his hand closed around Luciano’s wrist a second before he could leave. 

“Let go of me!” he whispered, panic in his eyes and threat in his voice as he tried to pull himself free, but Martín couldn't loosen the grip even if he wanted to. “Let go!” 

“Luciano, please”

“Don’t say my name! Let me go!”

Luciano had never looked at him like that, so horrified. Cheated. Furious. Martín could feel nothing but a paralyzing surprise. He couldn’t move his hand or organize his thoughts, just stare wide-eyed at Luciano’s face. 

“What are you doing here?” he managed to whisper, though not without stuttering.

“None of your fucking business. Let me go!”

“Please, I just want to talk…”

“Why are you here? You followed me, didn’t you? You’re gonna turn me in? Is that your plan? Or are you gonna kill me? Might as well do it now.” his voice was low but harsh, each phrase emphasized by a useless pull of his wrist. 

“What? No, I-”

“Why are you doing this to me, why did you have to-” he seemed on the verge of tears for a second, desperate. 

Martín opened his mouth several times to speak, but he was unable to form a single coherent sentence, as if Luciano was not in front of him, as if his hand wasn't closed around his wrist, as if his heart wasn't broken by the pain in his eyes. 

“I’m not… I’m not here for you, I- I came by myself, I didn’t know, please.”

Luciano stopped struggling and stared at him, in a surprise that would have mirrored his had it not been so filled with distrust. Martín managed to catch a breath, realizing only now he had been holding it. 

“Please… I- can we talk?”

Luciano hesitated. Martín moved to the seat next to him to make space, but didn’t let go of his wrist. Luciano stared at him, at the seat, at the exit and back to him, and sat. 

“I’m not gonna turn you in, I just- I’m surprised, that’s all.” his coherence was miles away from anything it normally was, but still, he was glad he was able to even speak. “I thought... you were with a girl, that day, you said you would see her today...”

“Sometimes one wants a thing, sometimes another, you can’t judge me, you-”

Martín couldn’t stand this, having Luciano whispering so close to him but his face so hostile. He didn’t think about it, didn’t make that decision, but before he knew it he let go of Luciano’s wrists and brought his trembling hands to hold his face and press his mouth on his. 

“I’m here too, am I not?”

Luciano paused, swallowed, and stared. Martín immediately regretted everything, the ghost of the kiss lingering on his mouth as all terrible realizations fell upon him, the fear of rejection worse than ever. He was ready to apologize and run when Luciano leaned in and kissed him back.

It was a much better one than the first. Martín’s body felt light like a feather, his heart pounding like a horserace in his chest, running towards Luciano. It all felt like a dream, one he wasn’t ready to wake up from. Luciano was kissing him, really kissing him, his lips parted and tongue pressed against his, all so warm and honest and a little clumsy but perfect still. He could taste a hint of fear, of doubt, when Luciano said against his skin.

“I didn’t think you were the type.”

“I guess I am. I didn’t know I was, but I-” the confession was on his lips, three words so clear yet so heavy. “I love you.”

Luciano stared in shock, opening his mouth to say nothing. Martín realized suddenly it had been too much, too soon. Luciano could like him, want him even, but love was not a matter either of them took lightly, and he knew it. But once more Luciano halted his fears with a kiss that was as passionate as it was true, and that said more than any words should, for now.

The rest of the room disappeared around the. The kisses grew heavier. There was no movie, no moans, no chairs, no walls. There was Luciano’s face, his lips, his tongue, his warmth. There was his hand, carefully touching Martín’s knee and staying there for a long moment, before hesitantly trailing upwards, caressing his thigh. Martín froze for a second, enough for Luciano to notice and break the kiss, though their lips still touched.

“Is this ok?”

Martín nodded a bit too quickly. 

“Yes- Yes. This is all new to me but- Yes.”

It was a bit crazy, everything that was being offered by Luciano’s eyes and touch. Martín hadn’t done any of it before; sex, of course, but never with a man and never with Luciano. Never with the sweet soldier boy that lived in his every thought. He wondered if maybe he could take him to his house, or a hotel, anywhere he could lay him down properly on a real bed and kiss every inch of his body, and do- do whatever Luciano wanted. Maybe he could afford to be romantic, though to be fair he didn’t know how these things went with a man. He had a vague idea, cloudy guesses, nothing more. But Luciano had a hand on his thigh, and not with all the will of the world could he manage to move away from him for a second, much less for enough time to get to his house. That moment - that fragile little moment - was too special to be risked, even if it was at the back row of a shady and illegal movie theater. It was their moment.

Luciano nodded and moved his hand upwards a little more to unbutton Martín’s pants. His hand around him felt amazing, welcoming, the slow movements making Martín drop his head back against the wall and close his eyes. Luciano then took the kisses to his exposed neck just as his thumb pressed against the tip, and Martín had to hold himself back from making a sound. He wanted to say Luciano’s name, over and over again, because he couldn’t believe it was really him, his hands and his mouth. He wanted to say it, so he’d know it was real. 

What he did instead was reach into Luciano’s trousers, repeating his motion to unbutton them and take him in his hand. He felt warm and  _ right _ under his touch, Martín’s fingers wrapped perfectly around him and stroking at a pace that mimicked his. Luciano moved away from his neck to stare him eye to eye, his lids heavy and his smile open. Martín knew it would be the easiest thing in the world to just get lost in his eyes until he reached his climax in his hand, the vaguely erotic movie could never compare to the overwhelming beauty of Luciano’s face at that moment.

But he didn’t. He saw from the corner of the eye a man who previously had been sucking off the guy next to him get up and leave. As if that was a sign, Martín removed his hand, and dropped on his knees on the theater floor. It was tight, he barely had enough room, but he managed to settle himself between Luciano’s legs and look up at him with a smile.

He had never done that, too, so maybe he was getting ahead of himself, but he couldn't help it. The second the idea crossed his head - that he  _ could _ , he didn’t need to overthink a second more. Luciano touched his face, running his thumb over his bottom lip. Martín opened his mouth and let him dip it inside, press his tongue a little tentatively. He seemed surprised again, a little unsure even, staring back at him from above. 

Martín took his erection back in his hand and stuck out his tongue to taste it. He had it done to him a few times, so he knew how it should go, how it should feel, and he wanted nothing more than for Luciano to feel good with him. Still, he was glad when Luciano buried his hands in his hair, not pulling but holding him, and started to gently guide his movements. Martín opened his mouth wider, took him in, and let Luciano push him for more. 

It was difficult at first, his throat rejecting the presence though Martín wanted it just there. Luciano was lovingly patient with him, never truly pushing him to take more than he could, even though Martín wouldn’t have minded if he did. Somehow just the idea of Luciano finding his pleasure in his mouth, overwhelming him carelessly, was arousing on its own. But that was not Luci, Luci was sweet to a fault until the end, perfectly content with the slow rhythm Martín’s lack of experience allowed him. He warned him before he came in his mouth with a low cry on his lips. Martín watched him close his eyes and look otherworldly beautiful for a couple of seconds, with his brow furrowed and his mouth slightly open, his chest quickly rising and falling and rising again as he climaxed. 

Martín swallowed and left one last kiss on Luciano’s body, at the bottom of his abdomen, that was what skin he had available, and got up. He thought he’d sit back where he was, but Luciano stared at him with the same surprise as before and held his arm to guide him to sit on his lap instead.

He did, supported by Luciano’s firm hand on his back. His other hand took a handkerchief from his pocket and went back to Martín's erection to stroke him under it. Luciano kissed his lips, jaw and neck, sometimes sweetly, shily, sometimes open-mouthed and demanding, making love to his skin as if it was all he knew how to do. He touched him gently, attentively, and Martín allowed himself a few quiet moans in his ear. 

“Luciano…” Martín indulged in whispering his name, seconds before he saw the world turn into white stars on his hand, his whole body weak over his. He buried his face in Luciano’s neck and just stayed there as the rhythm of his breath returned to normal. 

Luciano put the now stained piece of fabric that had protected their clothes back into his pocket and ran his hand over Martín’s thighs. His heart was racing too, just as much as his, if not more. He held Martín’s chin with his thumb to make him meet his eyes so he could kiss him one more time, slow and sweet.

“I love you” he said, his eyes vulnerable and honest in that way that was oh so Luciano, and Martín couldn’t believe his luck. “I didn't- say it before, when you did. But I’ve been thinking about you… I just never thought I’d have a chance.” he laughed at himself at that, and Martín did too, because it was such an absurd idea when he was still sitting on his lap, when he could still feel the weeks of longing and pining for Luciano in his bones. So he kissed his forehead, smiling, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

They left together, with their hands almost touching. The old movie theater quickly disappeared behind them, and though neither seemed to know where they were going, as long as Luciano kept looking at him with that new sparkle in his eyes, Martín didn't mind, at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> It always feels a little weird to post smut, but I hope this was somewhat fun to read. Please comment, I need positive affirmation, I am a slut.


End file.
